The House That Fire Built
by Ready For The Laughing Gas
Summary: Robb Stark has lost his father and sisters to the paws of Tywin Lannister. And now to win this war, he is surrendering his freedom to Daenerys Targaryen. Political Marriage AU
1. When Winter Comes

_**When Winter Comes**_

It was the coldest night of his life, the night he spent before marching south.

His last moments in Winterfell were spent alone in his father's solar. The bed was neatly done and Robb lay next to the fireside, watching as the embers burned midway to the ground. The fire was warm and provided him with comfort. Yet even as he was surrounded by the cold, an inferno gnawed at his bones. He was brimming with liquid fury, and the flames demanded a sacrifice in the form of King Joffrey Baratheon, the son of the Queen dowager.

He received a letter by Sansa's hand but with the Queen's words. According to the Queen, his father was a traitor and as the new Lord of Winterfell, she ordered him to bend the knee to the new king.

In response, he called the banners.

Robb Stark would go to King's Landing to free his family from Joffrey but the one thing standing in his way was Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock along with his son, the Kingslayer, and sixty thousand men.

The challenge only added fuel to his anger.

Now he was far away from home where he felt the pungent stench of the South. Encamped in Moat Cailin, Robb prepared to move farther down with twenty thousand men of his own.

But the men trusted Robb as is. Their loyalty stemmed more from his imprisoned father than from him.

With whatever training he had amassed in seventeen years, he devised a plan. Bait the Old Lion at the Green Fork and capture the Golden One at Riverrun. It was a risky proposition but there was not much Robb wouldn't do.

Later, when he was alone with his maps and free of judging stares, he wondered. How far would he go to win this war?

The answer came from across the sea.

Chaos ensued in the Moat as his men woke up to the sound of horns. An unknown force approached them bearing a Silver Rose on their flags.

A fat and greasy man with yellow hair had come before him. The man's name was as ridiculous as the orange dress he was wearing. Magister Illyrio Mopatis. Robb would have laughed at the man if it were not for the five thousand soldiers accompanying him. The Company of the Rose they called themselves.

Sellswords from Essos, northern exiles because they refused to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror more than three hundred years before.

The Magister worked on their behalf and had an offer. But the choice was made for him. Those five thousand men could help him win the war as much as they could aid him in losing it before fighting even begun.

Whatever provocation from Robb's part could trigger the other side to attack. It was an option he couldn't afford since his own men stemmed from honor while Tywin could always just supply more with his gold.

Robb asked what the price was, and the Magister smiled as a self-satisfied hunter does.

He had him.

The Magister knew it. Robb knew it. He couldn't very well let his men know too.

In the morning, he knew he would have to explain his decision to men who already questioned every decision he made. Robb tried to access his tent and mull over potential answers. He needed to find a way to make this partnership work.

But without warning, the fat man had taken him by the shoulder, dragging him across camp to a faraway carriage.

"He's here to see the merchandise!" The Magister bellowed at the men guarding the carriage.

Robb didn't know what he expected to see.

Would she have wings on her back? Would her eyes gleam with madness? Perhaps she would breathe fire upon seeing him. Maybe an assassin was waiting instead, hoping to drag a dagger across his neck.

He expected many things, but not a frightened young girl.

She must have been sleeping because she stood up brusquely at the sight of him, grabbing several sheets with her and covering herself with them. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes wide with terror, eyes so blue they bordered on purple. Pale hair and skin blended with the white sheets covering her small frame. She whimpered, and he felt revulsion pool at his stomach.

Robb stormed out of the carriage and vomited into a bush behind his tent.

Inside, he gathered maps and pawns, wine and glass, all of them to accompany him through the night. He planned and drank to reach the point where he couldn't remember agreeing to a marriage with a young girl, the direct result of an incestuous dynasty.

Somewhere between the pawns and the wine, the lines blurred among the kingdoms. Yet his mind remained clear, stubborn and refusing to yield to the alcohol. If anything, the wine had drowned out the fire burning inside of him to reveal a deeper truth, so disturbing he wasn't sure he had the courage to acknowledge it.

It is in the darkness of the tent he realized there wasn't much he wouldn't do.

If uniting his family meant marrying Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of the Mad King himself, so be it. He would get those five thousand men for a price and would willingly spend an entire lifetime paying it back.

Aye, he would do that and burn stars for candlelight if need be.

* * *

_**Updates and spoilers can be found on my profile.**_


	2. Boy in Men's Armor

_**A Boy in Men's Armor**_

Robb and the rest of the most prominent house lords gathered to witness the testimony of a survivor.

The Kingslayer and fifteen thousand men attacked from the west, breaking the guards at the Golden Tooth. Robb's uncle, Edmure Tully, was captured at Riverrun. And at the Ford, Tully forces were attacked by Tywin and his rabid dog, Ser Gregor Clegane.

"I barely made it out alive," the survivor finished, his neck and arms covered with purplish bruises.

"Casualties?" Robb spoke first.

"Thousands, my Lord, if not more."

Rubbing his beard, the de facto Lord of Winterfell weighed the situation in his head. To put it simply, things had only gotten worse for the northerners.

"You are dismissed," Robb nodded to the man, who bowed and left the tent with a squire ready to accompany him to the medical wing.

The Riverlands had fallen and Robb found his hands tied. Because of his mother, he was now duty bound to liberate the Riverlands too. The council was quick to react and Lord Karstark pronounced loudly, "We should kill the Kingslayer first and then send his head to the old bastard."

"That would only antagonize them," Lord Hornwood interrupted, "We attack Tywin first and then go after his son. Then we march to King's Landing with both of their heads."

"Like hell," Lord Manderly shook his head, "Killing either of them would obliterate our chances of getting Lord Eddard back along with his daughters."

"And I agree," Robb stood up and began pacing around the tent, "Keeping them alive is more useful to us. They are our bargaining chips."

Looking over his map of Westeros, he moved several Lion pawns to their new positions. The Moat was _the_ northern stronghold. It had protected the North from a southern invasion for millennia. Undoubtedly, Tywin was not about test history; he wouldn't dare move. There was only one option.

They had to march south.

"Tywin will not budge from his position. He knows that fighting us here is a foolish move. The Kingslayer is inherently weaker, which is why we must distract Tywin," he pushed the Wolf pawns toward the Ford.

"We will lead him to believe we are fighting him there while I capture the Kingslayer in Riverrun. Some of you will come with me and the Company of the Rose." The atmosphere at camp was already strained with the inclusion of the Rose. Robb knew he needed to bring them together. How else was he supposed to defeat the Lannisters if his own men were divided? He was certain that a shared experience like battle would bring them closer.

"So you would have us trust men whose only word is the money in their purse," spoke Lord Cerwyn with suspicion in his eyes.

Robb's eyes narrowed. He knew it was a matter of time until someone brought up the subject, but he didn't welcome the challenge.

"The reality is," Robb raised his voice at the provocation, "we need more men to defeat the Lannisters. The Rose has supplies, shields, and weapons. All of them are experienced swordsmen. There are soldiers in our camps who have never wielded a sword, much less trained for battle."

They didn't give in easily, and inevitably, his bannermen wanted to know what it would cost them. Robb swallowed and controlled his voice, aware of the repercussions his following words would have.

"To secure their services, I am marrying Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

"Seven bloody buggering hells," Greatjon Umber swore loudly, breaking the shocked silence that followed the startling revelation. Immediately, a cacophony of voices followed. Robb clenched his jaw and his fist connected with the table, effectively silencing them.

Leaning over the table, he stared at each and every one of them.

"When my Lord father was wrongly imprisoned in King's Landing, his duties passed to me. I am young but my father taught me what it meant to be the Lord of Winterfell. He taught me all of my power stemmed from one duty: to secure the well-being of the North. I will do what I must to ensure it," Robb thundered across the war tent.

When no one spoke up again, he ordered his forces to split. Roose Bolton would lead twenty thousand men to meet with Tywin. Although Robb didn't trust him, Bolton had prestige and experience.

After entrusting most of his army to Lord Bolton, all Robb had left to do was cross the Twins.

* * *

Lord Walder Frey was an obstacle he hadn't predicted. Frey himself was an unpredictable man. One was to never expect anything from him and thus never be surprised. Negotiating with him would not be easy, but then his mother came back.

Once they were alone in his tent, she dropped her calm facade.

Lady Catelyn Stark demanded to know how he had managed to get himself engaged.

"I've already told you, mother," Robb sighed exasperatedly, "What was I to do? Provoke those five thousand sellswords to attack my men? If I hadn't agreed, whatever battle may have ensued could have ended this war before it even began."

His mother stayed quiet for a while before sighing heavily and grabbing her forehead.

"Then I must go and negotiate with Walder," sensing her son was ready to protest, she held up her hand, "I have known Walder ever since I was a little girl. Of all of you, I have the most chance of getting him to agree." Reluctantly, he agreed and by nightfall, she was back.

Robb was in the middle of a meeting but he stood up immediately upon seeing her enter.

"And?" He asked impatiently, internally preparing himself for all possible contingencies.

Lord Frey would grant their passing. He was amenable after learning Robb was accompanied by five thousand deadly sellswords from Essos. Although he did not manage to have Robb marry one of his daughters, he still had his conditions. Edmure would marry one of Frey's daughters. Robb would take on a lad name Oliver, and eventually, Arya would have to marry his son Waldron.

"She won't be too happy about that," Robb remarked, fondly remembering his headstrong sister. His mother, in turn, gave him a rueful smile in agreement.

Having secured the Twins, Robb left Hellman Tallhart there to be his eyes and ears.

"Shoot all things that come flying out of that tower," were Robb's exact words.

He didn't expect loyalty from Lord Frey.

He would guarantee it.

* * *

Daenerys had trouble remembering what the sun felt like. In Essos, the sun was inescapable, always shining and ubiquitous. Yet in this part of Westeros, the sun hid behind grey clouds and the pale crowns of trees. As a result, she was so very cold. She breathed into her palms hoping to warm them but to no avail.

She should have been happy she was at home. Wasn't this what she wanted? Westeros was her home, that much she knew, but the North wasn't. Then the thought of her new betrothed came to mind.

He was the son of the North.

Robb Stark, eldest of his siblings, leader of a rebellion, and heir to Winterfell. The Magister had liked him the moment he heard about him. Daenerys just recalled his intrusion.

She had been terrified when she first saw him, so much so she only had the sense to cover herself. Daenerys didn't really remember what he looked like. She found she didn't care either.

Lord or Khal, both were the Magister's customers.

The hours and days became indistinguishable from inside her carriage. She knew they moved but where she was heading, she didn't know. Almost a week passed before she saw him again.

One night, she heard two voices furiously tearing at each other. Her carriage, despite its prohibiting design, allowed her the freedom of a single window. The Magister and whom she vaguely identified as Robb were having a confrontation not far from her carriage. She did not hear the words but the enraged look on her betrothed spoke volumes.

Suddenly, he started marching to her carriage. Crawling to the back of the small cabin, she almost jumped when the door burst open, revealing Robb.

"My apologies," he spoke uneasily, his large frame barely fitting on the other side of the tight compartment, "Seeing you at this hour was not my intent."

Seeing him at this hour wasn't something she wanted either but what was she going to say to him.

Quickly, he started explaining things in a manner that only confused her.

Tomorrow he would be gone. With enough luck, he would return to camp and lead them to a forest where they would marry. At the _insistence_ of the Magister, he emphasized. It was indication enough he was as thrilled as she was about their marriage.

She didn't understand him fully, and she should have asked for clarification but her eyes were glued to the thick furs covering his back and the unruly curls falling over his forehead. His particular shade of dark red hair was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"How old are you?"

His voice interrupted her thoughts.

The question came out of nowhere and so did her answer.

"Seventeen."

The revelation stilled him, his eyes fleetingly moving down her form. "You are?" He asked and when she nodded, his eyes widened.

"You're my age," he said to himself but it came out loud, and it was now Daenerys' turn to be shocked. She took in his features and the gentle beard growing on his face. Leading an army at such an age...

They sat in silence for a while until he opted to stand up from his seat. Unexpectedly, he took his furs off and placed them in front of her. She inched away when he came closer but he put up his hands.

"I can see you're freezing," he explained, "Your clothes are not enough for around here." Startled, Daenerys only blinked, her hands warily touching the soft brown fur.

"I-uh goodnight," he closed the door behind him and left Daenerys alone.

Hesitatingly, she grabbed the furs and put them around her. A strange yet welcome gift, she thought.

They smelled of grass and the forest, a reflection of the landscape that had accompanied her in these travels. But what surprised her the most was how warm they were.


	3. The Kingslayer

**_The Kingslayer_**

Daenerys was sleeping when a hard knock jolted her awake. The sound threw her off, which is why she barely opened the door to her carriage and peeked through. On the other side stood a tall, bearded man with a friendly smile.

"Good morning, my Lady. My name is Ser Rodrik Cassel, a close friend of the Starks. Lady Catelyn and I are going to wait for Robb's return from battle. Would you like to join us?"

Somewhat confused and barely awake, she remained quiet while trying to process his words.

Why was he asking her to go and see Robb? They were engaged, yes, but did that warrant this? And more importantly, Robb had been in a battle?

Slowly, she remembered his words from the night before. So that is what he meant last night. He would be gone because he would be busy with the war. Learning about Robb's involvement in a fight shouldn't have surprised her but it did. The war, or rather the concept of war, eluded her still.

Without thinking too much about it, she nodded and took his helping hand. The opportunity to spend some time outside was not one she was going to let pass. As they walked, a part of her worried something might have happened to him. Her concern was not necessarily for his wellbeing.

What she feared was the Magister. The man had been willing to send her to the edge of the world. By some miracle, he had decided to take them to Westeros instead. And at the very least, she could communicate with Robb. That hadn't been the case with the Khal, whose vocabulary was a menacing glare accompanied by a low growl.

Daenerys feared that the Magister would take her to another customer if Robb didn't return.

She reached for a dark blue cloth and wrapped it around her head. It was freezing and Robb's furs could only cover so much. After battling with some capricious strands of hair, she followed the man toward a horse.

Daenerys took the opportunity to familiarize herself with her surroundings. The camp was empty with silent tents idly standing by. It was a strange sight to see a place usually bursting with chatter reduced to a ghost town. Rubbing her eyes, she suppressed a yawn. The sky was grey, signifying it was early in the morning. Earlier than she was used to.

He helped her up and from the corner of her eye saw a woman intensely staring in her direction Curious, Daenerys turned her head to look at the woman and was met with a red-haired woman with worry stricken pale blue eyes.

"Is that Lady Catelyn?"

"Yes," the man replied while mounting his own horse, "Lady Stark is quite concerned for the wellbeing of her son."

Her son.

So that was his mother. Daenerys only stared. The thought of being in the proximity of his mother, whose glares were neither subtle or hidden, certainly did not put her at ease.

Together they began riding and stopped at the edge of a clearing. Time passed and her eyes roamed the naked trees and barren grass. It was such a strange land, with no sand or warmth. Yet, this lifeless land was a preferable option to the next best alternative. She trained her eyes on the horizon and searched the woods for his arrival. She needed him to come back.

The sun began to set and Ser Rodrik signaled it would be prudent to leave. Lady Catelyn spoke for the first time to object the suggestion. She heard the desperation behind his mother's voice when she said, "_No._" It carried weight and Daenerys can't help but feel her own restlessness grow.

It is when the horses start arriving that she sees Robb's mudded face and relief washes over her like water plummeting down from a waterfall. His mother lets out a strangled laugh and Daenerys almost smiles.

When his eyes found his mother, a grin appeared on his face. Still, it was quick to disappear when he saw Daenerys. He hadn't expected her to be there and to be honest, she didn't know what she was doing there either. But she was glad to see him, even if it was because of her own selfish reasons.

A prisoner was thrown into the ground. Hair and dirt covered half of his face, and Daenerys still recognized in him the features of a handsome man. Even on his knees, he remained confident when Robb and Lady Catelyn intimidated him. He must have been important, judging by the expensive armor he wore.

"It is not your sword I want," Catelyn responded angrily after the man's attempt to make light of this situation, "Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband."

In shock, she looked at Catelyn, and then Robb. The cause behind the war was not land or titles as she had suspected. The reason was far more personal it seems. She was bothered by the newfound information.

"I've lost them too, I'm afraid," the prisoner said amiably.

"Kill him, Robb, send his head to his father," spoke a young man, "He cut down ten of our men. You saw him."

She flickered her gaze back to the prisoner but was startled to find him staring directly at her.

"He's more useful to us alive. Take the Kingslayer away," Robb ordered.

Whatever left his mouth next was unheard by Daenerys.

Her eyes went wide open before she could stop them. She felt so many emotions at once that breathing became difficult. Sadness, anger, and despair all filled her with such intensity that her body trembled.

Ser Jaime Lannister, the murderer of her father.

She stood rooted in her spot and felt her stomach lurch when recognition flashed across his face as he was being taken away.

Feeling her heart rate escalate, she pulled the cloth around her head, trying to cover whatever hair that could have fallen out. Daenerys struggled to catch her breath, looking up as Ser Rodrik put a hand over her shoulder with concern etched in his face.

"I am fine," she tried to convince Ser Rodrik and herself. Controlling herself, she rid herself of any thoughts pertaining the Kingslayer. He was a prisoner and unable to harm her. As far as she was concerned, she was safe.

"I sent one thousand men to their graves today," Robb spoke suddenly and Daenerys, along with his mother and Ser Rodrik, turned their attention to him.

"The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice," spoke the same young man with such conviction that she figured they must have known each other.

"Aye, but the dead won't hear them," Robb responded and walked to the forefront of the clearing to address the men.

"One victory doesn't make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?"

She along with the rest stood there, seemingly mesmerized by his words. He didn't speak harshly. No, he spoke fiercely with enough heartache to even make her, an outsider, feel for him. Subconsciously, she touched the furs around her.

She didn't know what it was, his words or the intent behind them, but she saw him, her perception of him, change before her very eyes.

It was the fact that when he spoke, no word seemed artificial. There was an element of honesty in him that was hard to miss.

"This war is far from over," he finished quietly.

Lords and Khals were the same to her, but perhaps Robb Stark was different.


	4. Under the Weirwood Tree

**Disclaimer:**** I ignored traditional GoT wedding vows.**

**As requested, here is the longest chapter yet!**

**I also received one guest review asking for clarification on Daenerys and Khal Drogo. Daenerys did NOT marry Khal Drogo because Illyrio received the message of Robb's rebellion prior to finalizing the deal with Drogo. **

* * *

_**Under the Weirwood Tree**_

Daenerys looked down at herself and gently touched the edges of the gown. She'd thought much about the war, her marriage, and the future that awaited her in Westeros. Acknowledging Robb's mortality was difficult, to say the least. But she did, and she did not find comfort afterward. With the war raging outside her carriage, there were constant threats to his life, and by connection, to hers as well. And now this marriage, however unwanted it may be, was going to make her a direct target.

"You look beguiling dear," the Magister beside her remarked.

She agreed. It was a pearlescent white fabric with three red dragons embroidered around her chest. It was a beautiful wedding dress, but she was shivering without Robb's gift.

Marrying him was going to put her life in even more danger and the fact did nothing to assuage her nervousness.

While waiting for the signal, her heart beat hard against her chest. She wasn't sure. Not sure about the wedding, her husband, or herself. For all she knew, she may not even emerge from this alive. Worse off yet, this whole wedding was nothing but a mere formality. As far as she was concerned, this was an auction coming to its end, and Daenerys was the transaction.

It was quiet inside the tent and when the squire came in, Daenerys gripped the Magister's arm so tightly he winced.

"Let us go then," he said while patting her hand.

Together, they stepped out of the tent and into the woods. There weren't any Rose men or Stark bannermen around, only a few figures gathered next to a disturbing white tree. She recognized Ser Rodrik and Catelyn, but not the other four. Next to the tree stood Robb whose face was unreadable.

He tried not to think as she walked toward him.

The only refuge he could find was in that fact that she was his age and that the Rose men had done a stellar job with the Kingslayer's forces. But even then the benefits of marrying her paled when he looked at her. She was afraid and the terror in her eyes discredited whatever this marriage had so far achieved for Robb.

The ceremony could now begin. Having no living relative, the Magister was the one to give her away.

Robb stared at her and Daenerys had trouble meeting his eyes in such close proximity. Daenerys did not know what gave her the strength to walk. Whatever force it was that led her to his side, she was thankful for it. It was only her, him, and the priest beside the crying tree.

Nearing the end, the priest asked him for his vows.

Robb finds it ironic how both of their houses are represented, his in white of the wood and hers in the blood-red leaves. His...his father once told him that one cannot lie in the presence of a weirwood tree. He doesn't know whether it's true, but as he watched her stare at him with such distress, he knew he could only give her the truth.

"I, Robb Stark, take you, Daenerys Targaryen, as my wife from this time onward," he spoke softly, but every word resonated within her, loud and clear like bells.

"To share all that is to come, to be your faithful husband, to give and to receive, to speak and to listen," before she knew it, he had taken her hand and held it as he continued to recite his vows. His hands were cold compared to hers, but she didn't pull away.

When he prepared his vow, Robb hadn't known where to begin it or end it. He wasn't sure what he could give her. But wasn't this what his parents felt at the beginning of their own marriage? A distinct inability to love one another at will? He imagined they were as terrified as he was at the prospect of sharing his life with this stranger. Sure, southern lords could just take on mistresses, but that was not the northern way. It was not the route Robb would take. And thus, he stared into the eyes of the one who was to be his wife and uttered his last vow to her.

And damn it, he would uphold that vow, no matter the cost.

"I pledge myself to you from this day to the end of my days."

He concluded with such a sense of finality that made her _see_.

He was committing himself to this union. Neither of them wanted this, that much was clear, but he was willing to make it work. He wasn't pledging his love to her. He had none to give. Yet Robb was promising her companionship and when she grasped this notion, her vows came naturally.

The priest asked her to recite hers and Daenerys replied to Robb in kind.

"I, Daenerys Targaryen, pledge myself to you," she spoke as firmly as she could, "I take you to be my husband from this day forward, for better or for worse, for as long as we both live."

Then the priest continued talking but she didn't pay attention to him, reeling from what she had just promised. She had, in a way, just given Robb her life, hadn't she?

_For as long as we both live..._wasn't that the promise of eternity, even if that eternity was limited to their lifetimes? Daenerys stood still and realized her future was not her own anymore. Her future was now theirs.

Suddenly, he took his cloak off and put it around her.

"I now bind you," the priest took a white band and wrapped it around their hands, "Together as one," he said at last and that was it.

None of the witnesses clapped. Daenerys didn't cry or laugh and Robb didn't move.

Daenerys wanted to believe he was a good man. She wanted to believe she was marrying the man who was fighting a war, not for glory but to save his family. She wanted to believe Robb Stark was different.

He wanted to believe Daenerys would be different, an exception to the Targaryen rule. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

When their hands separated, the white band fell to the ground, and his arms carefully wrapped around her waist. She held onto that image of him and he held onto his vow to her as his lips pressed against hers.

Meanwhile, Catelyn Stark was silent as her eldest son held his new wife under the weirwood tree.

* * *

The wedding feast was more a gathering celebrating their victory over Ser Jaime Lannister's forces than a celebration of his marriage to Daenerys. His bannermen and Rose men bantered good-naturedly. It was a welcome change of pace. After all, Robb had engineered their newfound cordiality.

The Magister, even if he was one greasy bastard, managed to procure them food not available at this time of the year. The man was impossible but Robb was thankful. Wine and good food could do wonders to morale.

His mother retired to her tent. Theon was most likely someplace with someone.

Beside him, Daenerys sipped from her cup, carefully getting used to the sour taste of Westerosi wine. She watched as the soldiers erupted in rancorous laughter when one of them fell to the ground in a drunken stupor.

Sighing, she grabbed her cup again. Upon taking too big of a gulp, she gasped as the drink hit the roof of her mouth and burned its way down her throat.

Robb opened his mouth to ask her how she was fairing but was interrupted by two inebriated soldiers.

"Who're you callin' a-a coward, you dimwit?" One man shouted as he struggled to stand up.

"Yer a coawarda," the other man rose up, "What ar'ya deaf too?"

The offended man swung his fist onto the chin of the offender. Immediately, others joined the fight that soon turned into a full-blown brawl.

Daenerys watched with trepidation as the scene unfolded in front of her.

Noticing her discomfort, Robb offered his arm to her and asked, "Perhaps we should retire now?"

At the question, she felt relief wash over her. Taking his arm eagerly, she let herself be led away from the loud shouting.

As they walked arm in arm, however, she almost stopped when her mind registered what was to occur next. In a matter of seconds, her heart began beating forcefully against her rib cage, so loudly she thought he could hear it.

Robb walked swiftly and could almost see his tent when the Magister intercepted them.

"Bloody hell," he swore under his breath and Daenerys looked at him in surprise.

"There go our newlyweds! You're quite impatient, my Lord. I do not fault you, of course, but that is not why I am stopping you. Bring it here," The amiable voice of the Magister changed drastically as he began barking orders at his servants.

Robb wanted nothing but for the man to disappear.

Servants came rushing in carrying one long box.

The Magister then smiled and opened the box, revealing three circular shapes. Robb stared at them, not knowing what they were, yet Daenerys recognized them. Her head snapped up and her mouth opened but no words would come out.

"A wedding gift, my dear."

"A gift?" Robb asked, seeing Daenerys wasn't capable of forming words.

"Yes, my Lord. I'm giving your wife these three fossilized dragon eggs. At least that is what the vendor claims. Yet, even if they were not real, the sentiment counts. She may be your wife, but she is still a Targaryen and who are they without their dragons?"

Carefully, Daenerys took one of the eggs into her hands and touched its stony scales. Her hands felt small compared to the egg and with some trepidation, she felt her hands become warm. She blinked several times but the warmth did not go away, it only increased the longer she held the egg. Fascinated, she remained silent as she put the prized object back into the box.

"Thank you, Magister," she said.

"My pleasure. Now, I am going to leave before I interrupt you any more than I already have," He bowed to them and left the two as he ordered the servants to take the box to Daenerys' tent.

Robb, after taking a deep breath, proceeded to guide her to his tent. He opened the flaps for her and Daenerys stepped in first.

His place was surprisingly warm. There was a large table in the center with maps thrown all over it and multiple chairs surrounding it. Robb took her hand again and led her behind a fabric wall that revealed a small cot with a large box beside it. The only accessory was a small table with a candle.

"I had a change of clothes brought for you," he said conversationally in an attempt to dispell his own nervousness. He had come prepared to do his duty and get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. But now that the moment had arrived, he wasn't sure.

When Daenerys moved forward, he didn't stop her. She sat down, looked down at the cot, and Robb couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't-we don't have to do anything tonight," the words poured out of him, "Not if you're not willing."

At that, she fixed her gaze at him.

Her entire life, Daenerys had no say in anything pertaining to her. She couldn't choose where to live, whom to marry, or what wedding dress she wanted to wear. According to the Magister, she had no free will. But Robb was giving her a choice and she chose.

He had offered her his warmth, he hadn't forced himself on her, and he had promised her a lifetime despite his own reluctance. He was waging war to save his family. He had captured the murderer of her father.

She came to the conclusion that she wouldn't mind Robb bedding her.

But not tonight.

Not until she was ready.

She shook her head and he nodded. Wordlessly, he turned around and unfastened his outer armor. In the end, all he had left on was a shirt and underpants. He kept the pants for her sake. Hearing nothing from behind, he assumed she was done. So he turned around only to find her still fully clothed and blushing furiously.

He figured he stood there like an idiot.

"Do you need help with your dress?"

She nodded.

Feeling dumb, he held up a hand for her to take. Robb helped her up and gently turned her around. Lowering himself slightly, he proceeded to undo the buttons on her back.

His fingers fumbled with her dress, unaccustomed to handling delicate articles like those infuriatingly small buttons. Daenerys stood there and reigned in her nerves by distracting herself. Without meaning to, her mind went back to the field when she found out about the situation his family was going through.

"What are their names?"

He stopped and looked at the back of her neck.

"Your sisters," she clarified.

Daenerys didn't know whether it was her place to ask or if he would even answer. But she wanted to know nonetheless. The truth is, here in the quietness of his tent, it was easier speaking to him.

"Their names are Sansa and Arya," he whispered while finishing up with her dress.

"And the Lannisters have them," she said, remembering the interaction between his mother and the Kingslayer.

If there is one thing she knew was the people don't change. The Lannisters certainly won't change. Nothing was beneath them.

"They're holding them against their will. My father is imprisoned. The Queen dowager and her son are all behind this."

"You must love your sisters very much, to go against the usurper Queen like this."

The dress pooled underneath her and she stepped out of it, wearing only a thin chemise. Lowering herself on the cot again, she watched as Robb hung her dress and sat down too. The wooden bed creaked loudly with the additional weight.

"I do."

"They're very lucky to have an older brother like you."

He tilted his head and saw her staring into the distance as if remembering something. In a way, she was right. All of this was possible because he was the heir to Winterfell. Had the sister's of a commoner been kidnapped, no one would have batted an eye. The thought of such indifference troubled him.

But he was born as the eldest Stark and with that power, he had the tools to save his family. He would most certainly use those tools.

"It's what family does. We protect one another," Robb stood up and began walking away. "I am going to be up late. Have some rest."

He left, reasoning neither would be able to sleep comfortably in such a small mattress. Besides, he didn't want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was. Plus, he didn't want to admit to himself he was anxious about the next course of action in the war. Neither did he acknowledge his own cravings, cravings he ignored completely.

Daenerys thought of them, of Sansa and Arya, and how lucky they were. They had a brother who was willing to go to such lengths to save them. To protect them. They didn't have to go through her experience.

One brother chased after a woman he couldn't have at the cost of his own family. And the other...the other was no more.

She closed her eyes and told herself she was safe, married into a different kind of family, a different kind of man. She was in a tent somewhere in Westeros, far away from Essos.

He couldn't hurt her there.

Daenerys curled up and embraced her legs as she fought the ghostly image of her brother away.

No, he couldn't hurt her there. She was a part of House Stark now and from what she had seen and heard, the Starks protected one another.

* * *

**Updates can be found on my profile.**


	5. Casualties of War

_**Casualties of War**_

Marriage to Daenerys Targaryen did not change his life as he thought it would. He held frequent meetings, inspected the troops, developed new strategies, and fell asleep on his work table. Daenerys remained in her own tent and he did not force her to move in with him. They didn't talk after their only night in the same tent and Robb made no effort to change that.

Thus far, the Kingslayer had posed no real problems.

Just yesterday, Robb received news from Lord Bolton. Although they suffered heavy losses, the tactic proved successful and distracted Tywin long enough to present the North with an opportunity. While the Old Lion recovered from his own losses, Robb had three weeks to plunder the Westerlands. Tywin would be back, but Robb would make sure to seize each and every source of wealth the Lannisters had, beginning with their gold. The Magister showed himself to be useful when it came to gold. The Lords had not been pleased with the Essosi present in their meetings, but Robb found the man's expertise in money matters necessary, if not crucial.

Even after their shared victory at the battle of the Whispering Woods, suspicion and mistrust were commonplace between his men and the Company of the Rose.

"You must rid yourself of the Magister's influence over you," Theon hissed quietly once they were alone. In this last meeting, they assigned forces to raid different sectors of the Westerlands. Sighing, Robb loosened his shirt.

"Influence or not, his knowledge and possession of gold are indispensable. For now, we must put up with him."

"But not for long. A couple more victories and the sellswords will no longer depend solely on the Magister's purse."

Pausing, Robb held the newly carved pawn representing the Rose men. While gaining the trust of northerners would be an uphill battle for the sellswords, their valor and skill were acknowledged even among the most loyalist Stark bannermen.

"These raids should help with securing their loyalty," he said while looking at gold mine at the Golden Tooth. It was the nearest one to their current position and a little bit of gold in a soldier's bag was bound to ensure allegiance to Robb.

"And what about her?"

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room shifted and the air tensed.

"Theon," Robb said warningly.

From time to time, Theon pushed the topic of Daenerys on him.

"You can't keep your marriage a secret because many in our camps already know and stories of your new _Targaryen_ wife are bound to spread around."

"Yes, I know that!" Robb yelled in frustration. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he looked up from his seat.

"She is something I will have to deal with and I have given orders for the North to learn about our marriage once the time is right. We need more decisive victories that will convince my people that marrying her was the only choice. As for the South, I am sure the news will reach them eventually if it hasn't already."

He thought his reasoning was sensible enough, but Theon did not seem satisfied. Still, he kept his words to himself and turned away. However, as he was leaving a tent, a frantic looking squire came rushing in.

He looked wildly around and had tears streaming down his muddied face.

"What the hell-?" Theon grabbed the young boy while Robb stood up and approached the pair with a sword in hand.

"What's the matter?" Robb asked as the boy cried. When the squire didn't answer, Robb pushed Theon away and shook the boy by the collar. He quickly leaned down and forcibly pushed the boy up.

"Answer me dammit!" For all he knew, this could be an emergency and already, his mind was quickly going over battle plans in case of an ambush at camp.

"King J-Joffrey," the boy meekly whimpered.

* * *

Daenerys sat outside her tent and watched as the camp went about their business. She sipped her cold drink in silence and watched as the soldiers roamed from site to site with an odd glint in their eyes. It was as if whatever joy or energy they possessed was drained out of them, leaving empty shells to walk around. She had never seen the normally loud northerners be as quiet as she was and the sight disturbed her greatly.

She hadn't heard from Robb and she didn't mind his absence. Ser Rodrik had kept her company from time to time, and she immensely enjoyed his stories, although she repaid him only with a couple of low chuckles and small smiles. He came by every morning for a quick chat but he was nowhere to be seen.

A raggedy looking woman passed by and stooped upon seeing Daenerys. Scowling, the woman marched up to her and angrily spit at her.

Daenerys didn't have to time react. She felt the spit land squarely on her feet. Her cheeks went red with embarrassment and she watched the woman in fear.

"Bloody southerners! " The woman snarled at her before walking away.

Shocked and humiliated, Daenerys ignored the stares she received as she grabbed a piece of cloth to wipe her feet clean. She turned around and noticed that not even the Rose guards were there.

Whatever protection she had was now gone and with a sinking feeling, she realized she was completely and utterly vulnerable. The soldiers around her did not seem to pay her any sort of attention, but she wasn't going to risk staying there. Being alone in her unguarded tent only invited trouble. No, she couldn't stay there. She had to find Robb.

Taking Robb's furs with her, she began searching throughout the camp. While she walked, occasionally someone would stare at her, but the majority of men completely ignored her. She didn't know for how long she walked, but as she looked around she acquired a new sense of size. The limited space of her tent failed to convey the enormity of the camp.

Daenerys knew it was not morning anymore by the time she reached her tent again and she knew that asking for Robb was probably the most logical way to proceed. But something about the situation told her whatever concerns or questions she had would not be listened to or welcome.

The woman that spat at her certainly did not welcome her presence there.

Opening the door to her tent, she decided to remain there, with guards or not. So far, no one had hurt her and continuing to aimlessly wander around camp without protection would be foolish. But she had learned something.

Seeing all those men stare blankly at their weapons signaled to her something was terribly wrong.

Before she entered her tent, however, two men walked by.

"Camp's quiet today, innit?"

"No wonder nobody is in a talking mood."

"What do you mean?"

"What, haven't you heard? Lord Eddard Stark is dead."

Daenerys' hand stopped mid-air.

Lord Eddard _Stark_?

Blinking, she slowly closed the door and processed the newfound information. She had no idea who Eddard was or what his relation was to Robb, but the man was undoubtedly very dear to the men here. She didn't know if Robb had any brothers and the one man she knew was captured was Robb's father. Could Lord Eddard be Robb's father?

From a distance, she picked up rough and metallic sounds coming from the forest to her left. To her surprise, Ser Rodrik stood at the edge of the woods, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a mounting sense of worry, she hurried toward him.

Ser Rodrik's face briefly changed from seriousness to mild shock upon seeing her.

"My lady."

"Ser, what has happened? Who is Lord Eddard?"

"Lord Eddard," the man said, pain clearly evident in his voice, "Lord Stark is...was Robb's father."

The confirmation of her speculation sucked the air out of her. It was as if a sudden emptiness filled her insides. Then, the harsh metallic sounds started again and she looked to the side only to see Robb savagely cutting into a tree. Without thinking clearly, her legs started moving in his direction. Ser Rodrik did nothing to stop her.

Robb hit the tree, again and again, harder and harder each time. To him, it was no tree at all. The tree trunk was Joffrey, the Lannisters, King's Landing, and a gaping hole that he thought if he filled with enough anger, it would go away. But with each raging hit, the hole grew wider.

There was nothing, nothing at all that could make it better.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a pale white figure standing nearby.

Daenerys stood still as Robb turned to her with swollen eyes and wet cheeks. They didn't speak to each other. Tiredly, Robb dropped his deformed sword onto the ground. Leaves fell from above and Daenerys took the first step forward.

He turned his back to her before she could reach him. Heavy shudders traveled across his chest as a gentle hand carefully touched his back.

"They killed him."

Slowly, she put another hand on his back.

"I know."

"They called him a traitor."

At that, she looked up. Silent, she pressed her head against his back.

"He didn't even wield the sword that killed my father."

He growled and turned around. He couldn't look at her, not while he was like that. She didn't say anything and watched as a single tear escaped his eye. Daenerys hadn't known her father very well. She couldn't remember him at all. But despite his absence, she still felt the pain of not knowing him. To have one's father killed...she couldn't begin to imagine.

His hands were bloody and full of blisters, but she grabbed them anyway. Holding them, she locked eyes with him.

Robb didn't know what it was, her touch or her steely gaze, that put the words in his mouth.

"I will kill them all," he said, no, _promised_ with a mixture of sorrow and anger in his eyes.

He will kill them all, he said, and she knew he meant every word.

Nodding, she gently squeezed his hands.

"Robb?" Came a voice from the side. Both turned their heads and saw Catelyn standing nearby, her eyes wet as well.

Sensing they needed a moment together, Daenerys separated herself from him.

As she began to walk away, mother and son embraced one another in mutual despair.

Robb and his mother would mourn, but he would fulfill his promise too. She didn't know much about his father. She hadn't even met him. But his death was personal. The Lannisters had already murdered her father and aided the Baratheons in stealing the throne. This was just another addition to the list and they would pay their debts to the Targaryens and Starks.

Mirre kēlia morghūlilza.

_All Lions will die._

* * *

**This one was hard to write. I do not enjoy seeing Dany treated like this but I assume there would be people against her. And then Robb is kind of a cold ass too in a way. But don't worry. Dany will become a queen in the next chapter and such treatment against her won't go unpunished. Trust me. Anyway, thank you all for the support and I can't wait to read your reviews! **


	6. Majesty

_**Majesty**_

Dealing with the loss of family member couldn't have been easy. She didn't remember losing her own father and mother. She couldn't imagine what Robb must be feeling. Whatever it was that he's feeling, he certainly did not show it when they went back to camp nor did he have any intentions of sharing those feelings with her.

After their brief moment together in the forest, Robb called an emergency gathering with all the House Lords, the Rose company Captain, and other trusted soldiers. To her surprise, Daenerys was invited to come along as well. She sat next to Catelyn, who only glanced at her briefly. On her other side sat Ser Rodrik. He was still somber, but he managed to smile at her when he arrived at the meeting.

Robb sat in the center, surrounded by burning candles and grave faced men. The place was dimly lit to avoid arousing suspicions.

"The proper cause is clear," spoke Lord Manderly while pacing to the front, "Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with his.

"Renly is not the king," Robb said sternly.

Even though she sat behind him, Daenerys saw the tensed position in which her husband sat. Part of her was in awe of being a part of this meeting. She could tell this was important. They were deciding where to search for their allies against Joffrey, that much she knew.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord. He put your father to death," the man said indignantly.

"That doesn't make Renly king. He's Robert's _youngest_ brother. If Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me," Robb reasoned, "Renly cannot be king before Stannis."

"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis?"

The gathering erupted in whispers, which Robb quickly ceased with his following decision.

"I do not mean to declare us for either," he said, "For neither will be willing to join us. The Baratheons will not work with us for as long as I'm married to a direct challenger to their throne."

Suddenly, all the attention was on her. Even Robb momentarily turned his head to look at her, not in malice but with concern.

"Targaryens, despite their near extinction, still have history on their side. A history of power that Robert's seventeen years have not erased and whatever male offspring I have with Daenerys will be seen as a threat to either of their reigns. No, the Baratheons will not join us."

Daenerys did not consider herself a challenger. What did she have? Long, wavy silver hair, her name, and that was about it. She didn't have Robb's army or experience. Her glorious house reduced to her and him, all the way across the sea. All she had was the color of her hair and her name to threaten the Baratheons. Silently, she frowned but agreed with his assessment. The Baratheons were stubborn enough to refuse to believe an enemy was defeated, however much it pained her to admit it. And yet, a part of her was glad, glad Robb wasn't going to join them.

"My Lords!" Lord Umber, better known as Greatjon, entered the conversation with a loud exclamation. During her time in the camp, she had learned some of the names thanks to Ser Rodrik.

"Here is what I say to these two kings," he spat at the floor, which was followed by a loud cheer.

Daenerys uncomfortably shifted in her seat, flinching at the memory.

As for Robb, he didn't join the other in their cheer and instead recognized Greatjon for what he was doing. The camp's desire to storm the Red Keep had only heightened as had the incidents between the Rose men and his own bannermen. The small ounce of respect they had earned for each other had been destroyed with the death of his father. Their fear of foreigners came back to life and manifested itself in frequent infighting. Brief moments of levity such as these were needed and Robb felt his respect for the man grow. But he couldn't have seen what was to happen next.

"Renly Baratheon is nothing to me nor Stannis is either. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood," The Lords started to nod in agreement, many of whom voiced their agreement with quiet murmurs. With mounting alarm, Robb slowly inched forward.

_What is he doing?_

"Even their Gods are wrong!" The men barked out a laugh, "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?"

There it was, the question that Greatjon had meant to ask all along. Surprised, Robb went rigid and held back his emotions. Behind him, Catelyn's eyes immediately went to her son.

"It was the Dragons we bowed to and now the dragons are ours."

Once again, the attention turned to Daenerys.

"A Targaryen," Greatjon paused while looking at her directly, "is now the wife of a Stark."

The men cheered again and Greatjon took out his sword, pointing it at Robb.

"There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to. THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

He roared and fell to his knees to the ground, sword in hand.

Robb didn't have the time to think. In fact, he didn't know how to react. But wasn't this what everything was leading to? Last night, he considered possible alliances. The Baratheons wouldn't dare join the husband of a Targaryen. House Arryn was unresponsive. The Lannisters had killed his father. The Martells allied with the highest bidder, which were the Lannisters. And the Tyrells didn't give a damn about the North anyhow. He had no allies in the South.

"I'll have peace on those terms," one Lord yelled.

"They can keep their red castle and iron chair too!"

One by one, more and more men went on their knees in front of Robb, who could only stand up and stare at the men. He didn't show it, but he was nervous about what this could all mean. Then, Theon stood up and took out his sword too.

"Am I your brother now and always?" He asked.

"Now and always."

"Then my sword is ours in victory and defeat," Theon, his old friend, kneeled as well, "from this day until the last."

The Captain of the Rose stepped forward and the vociferous crowd came to a sudden halt.

"I do not know you, Robb Stark. I do not know your people. And you do not know me. I can see the distrust in your eyes, the way your voices hush when I and my men are around. I understand. But our forefathers swore an oath when they left the North. They swore never to return to Westeros, not until the North was free," the man took out a golden sword.

"It is an oath we intend to uphold. I was not born here, but the North runs through my blood. This is my home and it is now free. The Rose stands by you. The King in the North!" He roared and soon after, Greatjon with the rest did too.

Robb turned around and saw men kneel one by one. He looked at his mother, searching for something. Reassurance? Allowance? He didn't know what, but Catelyn's lips curled upward into a worried smile, but a smile nonetheless. And then he looked at Daenerys.

She didn't know what to think. She didn't know if she could bring herself to think even if she wanted to. Robb, her husband, was a king. The Southern houses would undoubtedly object but Robb was a king in the eyes of his people. However, if he was king, what did that make her?

And so, Daenerys met his gaze, troubled and awed, as his men shouted:

"The King in the North!"

* * *

The meeting was over and the men left with an invigorated sense of duty. Some had even shaken hands with the Rose Captain, whose name was Carell Wyne. They weren't fighting to save his father anymore. They were fighting to avenge his father and to free the North. Robb was still unsure of what to make of his new title. Becoming king...this wasn't his intention. He didn't know what being king entailed, but he imagined his duties wouldn't change much.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Daenerys stand up to leave escorted by two Rose guards. He had asked Ser Rodrik to accompany her to the meeting after finding out Ser Rodrik had become some sort of a friend to Daenerys.

They hadn't talked since their wedding, but with this sudden change in status, he felt he needed to talk to her.

"Guards," the two men stopped.

"Your Grace," both said at the same time.

Robb's eyes went wide. Your Grace. It would take a while to get used to it.

"I'll accompany my wife to her tent myself. You're dismissed."

The guards bowed and walked away. Offering his arm, Daenerys took it slowly.

As they walked to her tent, Daenerys looked back and forth between her tent and Robb. Why was he walking her back? What were his intentions? Did he-did he intend to consummate their marriage now that he was king? Why now? Would he? The questions swam in her head and came to a stop once they were inside her tent.

Looking around, he saw it was different from the last time he visited her carriage. Albeit empty, there was a crate in one corner and a large mattress in the middle, covered with pillows and her three dragon eggs. Upon seeing them, he'd been confused before he remembered the Magister's wedding gift.

"You've been sleeping with your dragon eggs?" He asked.

"They help me sleep," she said, not telling him about the warmth the eggs gave her.

He nodded and sat down in the nearest chair. Nervous, Daenerys sat down on her bed and waited for his next move.

"We need to talk," he began, "You understand that this, being king that is, changes things."

Daenerys inclined her head.

"Then you know what you are now."

At that, she locked eyes with him.

"No, your Grace, I do not."

Surprised, Robb sat up straighter and frowned at the edge in her tone.

"I do not know what I am. I don't know what this between us is. What am I to you, Robb?" Daenerys sat up with clenched fists. She didn't know why she was losing her temper, but she was and she wasn't going to stop it.

"A wife? A necessity? Or just a piece of meat you can discard once you had your soldiers?" With each question, her voice got louder until she finished yelling at him. She caught her breath and felt dread pool at her stomach. What had she just done? She felt an apology threaten to spill from her mouth when his hard eyes stopped her. He did not look at her in anger. Instead, he was pensive.

Robb held her gaze and stared at her purplish-blue eyes before answering resolutely.

"We are married, Daenerys, which makes you the Queen of the North, whether the North likes it or not."

"But how am I to be the Queen of a people who dislike me so openly?"

Daenerys said, recalling her incident with the woman early morning.

"What do you mean?"

"A woman spat at me this morning. Without any reservation or shame. She called me a 'southerner' as if it were an insult."

Hearing the revelation should have shocked him, but it didn't. He sat up and walked over to her, taking a seat by her side.

"That will not be the first time a northerner disrespects you. My people are not kind to outsiders. It is not a trait I am proud of but if anything like this happens again, it will not go unpunished. Now more than ever. As their Queen, no act of insolence will go unpunished. You have my word."

He took her hand and squeezed it. Daenerys sat there, dumbfounded. She was a Queen now and Robb had reassured her of it.

Outside, a commotion interrupted the silence. Robb stood up immediately and nearly crashed with the Magister who came tumbling inside.

"Magister?" Daenerys asked and watched as the Magister pushed her husband off.

"Independence! What is the meaning of this?" The large man shouted loudly. The two guards who were outside came rushing in.

"The North becoming independent. King of the North! This wasn't part of the plan," he struggled out of the grip of the two guards holding him back.

"Part of the plan?" Robb said somewhat bewildered. He turned back to Daenerys, who only looked back at him with incredulity.

And yet, a small thought appeared in the back of her head. She didn't know what the Magister's plan could be, but something told her it involved him.

Viserys.

* * *

**Here it is, at last. Can't wait to hear what you think!**


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